


Location: Heaven

by Meowser_Clancy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 17:58:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5835346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowser_Clancy/pseuds/Meowser_Clancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John writes Sherlock a letter. /Post Reichenbach, pre third season/</p>
            </blockquote>





	Location: Heaven

Dear Sherl, location Heaven, I hope.

Hi. So, yeah. I have no idea why you'd have a typewriter in your possession, and one with sticky keys, at that, but I was just standing in your room and I wondered what that box was so I opened it.

Seriously, Sherlock. Why did you own a typewriter? You were such a believer in modern times and cutting edge science and the newest phones and best working laptops.

Oh, but I'm just stalling. She said it would help, might help to write a letter to you. So here I am, trying.

They always said it would get easier with time, but in my humble experience, in what I've learned, it doesn't. Maybe it kind of fades but just around the edges… Like when you suck a Tootsie Pop just to get to the Tootsie Roll in the center, but with grief I don't think you ever reach the center. You can suck and suck but you'll never truly get there because you'll always remember them far too much. You won't be able to forget and you won't be able to forgive if someone, the someone being someone you loved, had committed suicide. Do you know what kind of message that sends to me? It says that I wasn't enough.

I don't know that you can ever forgive them, just like I can't forgive you, Sherlock Holmes, former address 221B Baker Street, and current address…Heaven, I hope, but I can't count on it

Oh, Sherl. You were the best man I knew, you have to know that now. You were the greatest because of your brain but also because you were so transparently human. I could see your flaws so easily but so also I could always see your greatness. You were, are still, the best friend I ever knew or had.

Oh, is that a teardrop on the paper? God, I need to get in control again.

Why am I using this typewriter when I could just as easily use my laptop or your laptop, if closeness is what I am looking for? I don't know. I don't know. But maybe it's the clicking. You don't get that with a computer keyboard, not the same way. Never as loud anyway. Maybe the sound soothes me, soothes these damn frayed nerves. Because I still can't even try to contemplate why you would do it.

Why, Sherl? You weren't a fake. You know that. I know that. Everyone important knew that. So what on earth could have convinced you to do it? Obviously, Moriarty said something but what the bloody hell did he have on you that would make you do it? You had no weak spots, Sherlock. You were a bloody suit of armor minus the chinks.

Besides that, no one on earth had the power to force you to do anything so it must have been your choice. But why? This question will never stop asking itself, at the most awkward moments. Why?

Bloody hell. It's Donavon.

See you lat

_ The text cuts off here. In copying this, I have taken the liberty to correct all misspellings due to the faulty typewriter. _

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This has probably been done many times before, but this was just my humble shot at the pain John went through. Letter format just seemed to make sense.


End file.
